


The Logical Progression of Things

by sleepy_firebug



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Developing Relationship, Eventual babies, Fluff, Hermann has MS, M/M, Marriage, Science Boyfriends, Science Husbands, Surrogacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_firebug/pseuds/sleepy_firebug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their relationship is full of taunts and jeers and is the furthest thing from healthy, but with the world teetering on the knife-edge of oblivion, Newton and Hermann have no choice but to suck it up and deal as they set all other concerns but their work aside.  But what starts as a messy kiss launches them down a path they'd never expected, towards a future they'd been half afraid would never exist, and a family they never realized they'd wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Starts With A Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> _It all starts with a kiss._
> 
> The first three chapters occur before and during the events of the film; the fourth focuses on their live afterwards. If I get too long-winded, there might be a fifth chapter. And who knows, I might expand on this universe later. Because daddies.
> 
> Beta-ed by the lovely [poudriere](http://poudriere.tumblr.com/).

_November 8, 2021_

 

“So the latest batch of organs that the Bio-Harvesters brought back... yeah, they sort of suck,” Newt muttered into an old-fashioned voice recorder, looking over the poorly preserved specimens with a critical eye and wishing for the gazillionth time that he could kick them in the nads. Instead of the clean, careful job that a man of science such as himself could have easily managed, it looked like a couple of drunk clowns had gone at the corpse with a machete. Not even cool. “I mean, my blind grandmother could have probably cut these things more neatly while juggling a couple of tennis balls. Seriously. I don't even know if I'll be able to use these for anything.”

Sometimes he wondered why the Marshall didn't just let him go out in the field and take care of the harvesting himself, or at least oversee it so that he didn't get stuck with a bunch of worthless crap, but he had a feeling that the Marshall's reluctance had something to do with what Hermann liked to describe as his 'insufferable personality'. Hey, he was a genius, alright? And the average human being with an average IQ would never honestly _get_ someone like him, and that was perfectly fine. He'd long since resigned himself to this fact.

Newt just wished that they would _listen_ more, that's all.

“No, I'm pretty sure that these are a total loss,” he continued into the recorder, slouching further back in his chair to stare up at the ceiling. “Utterly useless. With the tissue shredded like this, the preservation fluid can only do so much to prevent further decomposition. I might as well just toss the whole lot.”

A derisive snort sounded from the other side of the lab. “There will be no 'tossing' of any sort, Doctor Geiszler. You know the rules.”

“No guts on the lame side of the lab, got it.” He was _so_ tempted to make a sly joke about another sort of tossing, but he honestly didn't think Hermann would get it, and where was the fun in that? No, he totally behaved himself, and he really should have gotten some points for that.

Speaking of points. Hermann was up on the ladder again, and if anyone deserved some points for providing the world at large with a damned fine posterior view, it would be that man. It made no real sense, considering that the mathematician liked to hide himself in baggy, ill-fitting clothes, but when he climbed up on that ladder of his and leaned in to scrawl something across the blackboard, those ridiculous pants stretched _just right_. Newt paused in his dictations to watch, silently appreciating the part of Hermann's rump which peeked out from beneath a vintage tweed jacket and tilting his head to the side with a crooked grin when the other stretched out a little farther. Not too round, not too flat. Possibly an 8.5 on the Geiszler butt scale. 

Chalk it up to not getting laid in a while or whatever, but Newt had a feeling that Hermann was secretly hiding a pretty nice bod under all of his old man clothes. _I mean, look at that ass. He can't have an ass like that and not have lucked out in the rest of the body department. Can I just... put my hands all over that?_

Shit.

He'd totally said that last part out loud, hadn't he?

Newton nearly fell off of his chair in a panic, scrambling to simultaneously shut off his recorder and duck down from view in case Hermann lobbed something his way, but his lab partner hadn't even paused in his endless scribbling to indicate that he'd heard anything. 

Holy fuck, that was close.

Cautiously Newt levered himself back into an upright position, eyes firmly fixed on his oblivious companion. Yeah, okay, so maybe the little gluteus admiration he'd just caught himself in had started becoming a more common occurrence than he'd care to admit, but he had perfectly good reasons for that. One, they were stuck in the same room together for the majority of their waking hours. Two, the whole damned end-of-the-world thing meant that he rarely had time to leave the Shatterdome let alone find someone willing to bump uglies with him on a casual level, and folks in the 'Dome didn't seem all that interested in doing it with the mouthy K-Science biologist with the freaky tattoos who knew a million times more about anything than them. 

Wasn't intelligence supposed to be hot or something? They really didn't know what they were missing out on. 

What's next, c? No, three. Three was if the world was going to end, who was going to care that two incredibly incompatible guys had banged each other? No one had any right to judge them for it, and Newt sure as hell wasn't going to. Sex was sex, Four, they were both human with basic human needs, and sex was totally one of those. If _he_ wasn't getting some, then he seriously doubted that _Hermann_ was, and what kind of a sort-of-friend would he be if he let that slide? Hell, getting laid might just chill him out a bit and make him easier to work with. And if he was killing two birds with one stone by offering to be the partner in such an endeavour, that just made him even more of an awesome sort-of-friend. 

Yep.

It's not like their relationship could get much worse. They already bicker with such ferocity that there were only a few remaining souls brave enough to even encroach on K-Science territory these days; he could bring it up, and if Hermann totally bucked against the idea, Newt could laugh the whole thing off as a bad joke and move on. No hard feelings. He'd just sit back and continue to watch that fine ass, and bang one of the Jaeger techs on a lunch break or something.

 _Time for a little experiment._

“Hermann.” 

No answer, just more of the incessant scrape of chalk on blackboard. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hey, Hermann.”

The mathematician's hand paused just enough to indicate that he'd heard, but other than that Hermann didn't even bother to turn, or speak, or respond in any way. The bastard.

“Hermann.”

“Hermaaaaann.”

“Hey, Hermann. Are we really playing this game again?”

With each attempt at catching Hermann's attention he moved a little closer to the main set of blackboards, each time watching the other closely for some sort of reaction and each time remaining disappointed. It was like Hermann was determined not to acknowledge his presence, which you'd think he'd realize was a futile and frankly dangerous thing to do by this point in their relationship, but whatever. Even standing right there beside the ladder and crooning “ _Doktor Gottlieb_ ” up at him in a falsetto-tinged German accent while batting his eyelashes didn't seem to get a reaction.

Good thing that Newt wasn't so easily deterred. 

Grabbing one of the chairs from beside Hermann's desk, the biologist hauled it across to his lab partner with a horrifying squeal of steel over metal grating and settled it into place before clambering up on top. Sure, it only brought his face up to about Hermann's shoulder, but it was better than nothing. “Hey. I'm talking to you.”

“I've noticed,” Hermann snapped back, not bothering to draw his gaze away from his calculations. “Why you continue to do so while it's readily apparent that I am not interested in any sort of conversation with you at the moment is completely beyond me. I have been trying build on the Visser theory of traversable wormholes a possible explanation for the Breach, because if I can figure out _how_ it works, I can figure out _why_ it works, and how to shut the bloody thing down. And that requires time and concentration, not constant distraction by foolish biologists who have the attention span of a goldfish. Now get off of that chair before it collapses beneath you.”

“Hey. I am not that heavy!” As if to punctuate his words Newt hopped on top of the chair, demonstrating its sturdiness to any and all who may have been doubting. “In spite of what you may think about my eating habits, I'm not a fucking lard-ass. _Besides_ , I'm not up here just to talk to you.”

“Really?” Hermann sounded less than convinced. “Why, then?”

Some things were just better shown. Grabbing the mathematician by the arm (quickly but carefully, because no sexy-times were ever going to happen if he pulled Hermann off of the damned ladder), Newt yanked him down and sealed his lips with his own.

It was not a pretty kiss. Teeth clash and cut into lips that weren't used to dovetailing in such a way while Newt swallowed down muffled words that may have been curses and simply _hung on_. Sure, hanging precariously from a chair-slash-ladder while sucking face with his testy coworker probably wasn't one of Newt's brightest ideas, but it was one sure way to keep Hermann from running away or punching him square in the face for it. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right? A hand grabbed at the front of Newt's shirt, twisting in the material as though to push him away and send him toppling to the floor, but at the last possible second Hermann managed to grab the ladder with his free hand and latch on before dragging him up onto his toes for more.

 _Success_.

...Oh hey, this wasn't all that bad.

Grouchy, frumpy Hermann had seemed like the 40-year-old-virgin type, or at least sexually repressed to the point where he'd only had a handful of kisses in his life and wouldn't know how to give a good one if the chance presented itself. Granted, the abruptness of the initial sample and their current position didn't offer much insight into possible Gottlieb kissing skills, but despite the harshness of it, despite the way he felt like they were both hanging on for dear life, despite the taste of copper on this tongue and the way their glasses clanked together, it wasn't all that bad. Maybe a 6 on the Geiszler kissing scale. He definitely needed more data to come to a solid conclusion.

But breathing was another basic human need, and eventually they had to start doing that again, so when Hermann used his grip on Newt's shirt to push him back enough to separate them the biologist didn't complain too much. Or at all, really. Because breathing.

“What was that for?!” Hermann growled, the effect somewhat dulled by the way his smudged granny glasses hung crookedly on the end of his nose. 

“I... uh...” Post-kiss, Newt's brain was the slightest bit frazzled. The words just seemed trip right over his tongue and tumble into a useless little pile on the floor before he could sound them out into anything intelligible. 

Something sharpened in Hermann's eyes just then, though his lips remained pressed in a thin, angry line. He pulled his glasses from his face and began wiping them clean with a handkerchief, all the while giving Newt the sort of slow once-over that sparked a ball of heat to life right in the pit of his stomach, the sort of look that the biologist was used to _giving_ but not so much _receiving_. “If this is your way of convincing me to let you put your 'hands all over that', you're doing a piss-poor job of it.”

“Wait, you'd heard that?”

He'd heard that. 

Shit.

Hermann didn't appear to care about Newt's inner turmoil, however, instead climbing slowly down from the ladder and unhooking his cane from the edge of the chalk tray to brace himself with. “Yes, I heard that. Now I suggest that you remove yourself from the chair and attempt your experiment again, and perhaps an analysis of the new data will sway my mind in a favorable direction?”

Oh.

 _Oh_. 

Yeah, he could totally roll with that.


	2. Then Some Complex Neurochemical Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason Hermann won't let him get too close. But Newt's not about to let that stop him, because even grumpy mathematicians don't deserve to suffer alone.

_September 17, 2022_

It's 10 AM, and Hermann still wasn't in the lab.

Newt wasn't worried, of course. Hermann was a grown man and neither of them kept schedules that were all that regular, so if Hermann wanted to be late, that was fine. It was totally his prerogative. Sure, it was a little odd considering that he could never remember the mathematician _not_ being in the lab by 9 AM on any given day (when they actually managed to leave the lab the night before and not work straight through), but habits changed. People changed. The apocalypse was coming, so if he got the chance for a little extra shut-eye, why not take it?

Too bad Newt wasn't all that good at taking his own bullshit.

Maybe his alarm hadn't gone off. No, Hermann operated with mathematical precision; a little issue with his alarm wouldn't keep him from waking up like clockwork at the asscrack of dawn.

Maybe he'd had another phone call from his bastard of a father. It didn't happen often, but when it did, Hermann could end up out of sorts for hours, even days. Except that it tended to throw him into his work even harder than before, so such a call being the cause of his tardiness just didn't jive. Scratch that one, too. 

Maybe he was feeling a little under the weather.

Newt snapped on a fresh pair of gloves and began shoveling some dissected kaiju innards into a biohazard container. If it was any of those, the last might be the most likely explanation. They both had a tendency to work themselves past the point of exhaustion even when they'd picked up some sort of a bug, something that always managed to piss off the med team to no end. Only a few months back Newt had ended up in the medical bay with a case of walking pneumonia turned flat-on-your-back-in-the-hallway pneumonia, and he swore they were never going to let him live that down. If he remembered right, Hermann had been stuck on some sort of calculation over the past few days, but he'd been really quiet about it instead of railing on about his frustration or prodding Newt for a fresh perspective; if that wasn't a sign that something was funky in Gottliebtown, he didn't know what was.

God, he wasn't going to get any work done standing around the lab and worrying. Because yeah, he was totally worrying. Maybe he wouldn't have a year ago, or maybe even a few months ago, but... 

He stopped that thought right in its tracks. _Not important right now, Newt ol' buddy_. He'd just head over to Hermann's room and make sure that the idiot wasn't laying in a pool of his own vomit or passed out in bed with the final stages of Darnay's disease or something. Just simple friendly concern for a sort-of-friend come fuck-buddy. Yep.

Biohazard container properly sealed and stashed in its place, gloves off, Hermann's spare key in hand (okay, so he wasn't supposed to know that Hermann kept a spare in his desk drawer, but certain things were good to know just in case), Newt left the lab behind and made his way down the hall to the K-Science dorms. The Shatterdome had been designed with efficiency in mind, and that meant that their quarters were pretty close to the lab where they spent most of their time; he could make it there in five minutes if he dragged his heels. Hermann's room was right across the hall from his own, actually, and very convenient for the rare nights when they ended up in the same room/bed.

They hadn't traded keys or anything like that, though. That might give somebody the wrong idea.

Whatever he might have expected to find, however, an empty room just wasn't it. Newt pushed the door open further as his brows knotted in puzzlement, peering around the room in the off chance that his lost lab partner was hidden somewhere from view. 

“Hermann?” No lights on, no kaiju lurking in the corner, and no prickly mathematician. Nothing out of the ordinary, in fact.

Wait, that wasn't entirely true. Hermann's normally pristine bed lay rumpled with its copious bounty of pillows tossed carelessly atop it. To a normal person this might not appear out of place, but to someone who knew Hermann as well he did and hadn't ever seen the bed in such a state except after they'd finished making a thorough mess of it, it was a glaring red flag. 

“Dammit, Hermann,” he muttered, picking up a pillow and tossing it aside as if there might be some clue hidden beneath it. There wasn't. “Where the hell are you?”

He remembered too late that he'd forgotten to shut the door when a soft gasp of surprise nearly made him jump out of his skin. “Doctor Geiszler?”

“Mako! Holy shit, girl, you startled me.” Flopping heavily against the edge of Hermann's bed, Newt waived her into the room and managed to shoot her a lopsided sort of grin as his heart tried to compensate for nearly leaping from his throat. “Is your old man teaching you mad ninja skills now, or were you just trying to give me a heart attack?”

“My apologies, Doctor- Newt,” she replied with a flustered bow, only remembering at the last minute of his insistence that she call him by his first name. “I was not expecting to find you or anyone else here, but when I saw that the door was open-”

“Ah, yeah, about that.” He scratched idly at the back of his head, giving the room another quizzical once-over. “I seem to have lost this crabby, gangly guy with a bad haircut and granny glasses. Sleeps in this room sometimes. Have you seen him? He didn't come in to the lab today, so I was starting to get.... y'know. A little concerned that he'd finally pissed off the wrong people and might have gotten his ass stuffed in a locker. Or something.”

The petite Japanese woman managed to go from surprised to confused to almost uncomfortable in a few sparse seconds, and something about the progression left him instantly suspicious that he was totally missing something important. “It's, ah, nothing like that.”

When additional answers didn't appear to be forthcoming, Newt crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head, because he's known the kid since she joined up with the PPDC and he liked to think that they knew each other well enough by now that she'd trust him with whatever was going on. “Okay, spill. You obviously know something, and you also know that I'm not going to let it go since I _know_ that you know something. What's our resident grouch gotten himself into now? Post Traumatic Chalk Breaking Syndrome? The runs? Group isomorphism? Catch his finger in the toaster again and finds himself unable to report for duty?”

“No.” She was looking more and more uneasy as the moments ticked by, her eyes darting towards the hallway as if considering the plausibility of an escape. “Forgive me, Doctor, but if Doctor Gottlieb hasn't already shared it with you, I don't think that it's my place to divulge such sensitive information.”

“Newt, Mako, it's still Newt, remember?” So Hermann didn't have a problem about Mako knowing where he was, but apparently Newt didn't deserve the same courtesy? He wasn't sure whether to continue being concerned or just get pissed off, because really. Running his fingers roughly through his hair, the biologist decided to change tactics. Maybe he just needed to ask the right questions. “What are you doing here, then? Does he have you fetching shit for him 'cause he's too lazy to get it himself?”

Mako's delicate features pinched in distaste at his choice of words. 

“No, Doctor Gottlieb had asked Doctor Kikuchi for his tablet, so I volunteered to pick it up for him since I'd be the area to let you know that he could be out for a while.”

“A while? How long of a while? A day, a week, longer than that?” Shit, what had happened? Doctor Kikuchi was the head physician for the 'Dome, so if Hermann was down in the medical bay and expected to be there for a while, then it must be serious. He could make a few educated guesses based on his own observations, most of which had to do with the guy's need for a cane at such a young age, but it'd never been anything they'd really talked about. Hell, he hadn't even snooped into Hermann's medication like he might have with someone else, out of some strange respect for the guy who occasionally drove him absolutely batshit. Now he sort of wished that he had. 

Something tightened in Newt's chest then, that same something that had left him feeling weird and worried earlier. Maybe he should get that looked at before he ended up in the medical bay, too.

...Actually, a visit to the medical bay might not be a bad idea. 

“Hey, look, thanks for coming down and letting me know. I'll get that tablet over to Herm so that you don't need to take any more time out of your busy schedule.” Spotting said tablet over on Hermann's desk, he swiped it and held it close to his side, as if casually daring Mako to try and take it. Sure, she could wipe the floor with him, but he liked to think that her need to be polite would keep things from going that far. “I know you've probably got some better stuff to be doing, like kicking ass and taking names, am I right?”

“Ah-”

“Besides,” he pushed past her into the hallway, completely ignoring the way she gaped after him, “If Hermann isn't feeling well, then he's extra crabby. And nobody should be exposed to that who isn't used to it. I've already got an impressive tolerance built up to it, so you just let me take care of it, okay?”

She looked like she might argue at first, but apparently something in his face must have changed her mind, for she sighed and shook her head. “As you wish. Just... try to remember that he may not want to see you. As I understand it, he is not fond of making his condition known.”

“Hey.” He turned and threw his arms wide, face split by a cocky grin. “It's me.”

Her frown indicated that she didn't share his confidence.

* * *

The medical bay in the 'Dome was nothing special; a few exam rooms bordered by offices and then a large, open space that could be filled with hospital beds as the need arose. Nothing special, really, each one curtained off in some faux semblance of privacy by boring beige privacy curtains that no one in their right mind wanted to be stuck staring at for any length of time. A helpful nurse pointed Newt to the second occupied bed on the right, and after standing in front of the gap in the curtains for longer than he probably should have, Newt cleared his throat and just stepped inside.

“Can you not wait until I at least acknowledge you?” Came a quiet but peeved voice from the bed just inside, and yeah, there he was, curled up towards the opposite curtain and so lacking in much of his natural sass that Newt nearly didn't recognize him. A plasmapherisis machine sat at his side, holding a myriad of different IV bags and softly humming as it circulated blood like some sort of an automated vampire in the midst of what looked to be a plasma exchange. 

_They use that to treat autoimmune disorders_ , Newt's subconscious piped up helpfully. _Remember those pathology classes you took back in grad school? It filters out the troublesome autoantibodies from the bloodstream by removing somebody's plasma and replacing it some from somebody else so that the body slows down in attacking its own tissue. Pretty cool stuff, man._

 _Shut up,_ he thought back. _This is Hermann, not some faceless guy in a textbook case._

Hermann didn't bother turning towards Newt, seemingly content to stare off into beige nothingness as though he were nothing more than a tech come to check on his progress. _What do I say?_ He really hadn't thought this through all that well, had he? _'Oh hey, I heard you were sick and came down to see you. What's ailing you, Herm? Are you dying?'_ He swallowed, toying with the tablet in his hands before taking a single tentative step forward. 

“Uh. Sorry? Mako said you wanted your tablet-”

The other man's breath hitched, face mottling in a mixture of fury and shame as he whirled on him, eyes wide with something akin to panic and staring just past Newt's left shoulder before he jerked his hand towards the opening in a clear indication that he should leave. 

“You! Out! Just... get out _now_!”

“Hey, calm down, calm down,” the biologist soothed, managing to hold back most of his natural antagonism so that their yelling wouldn't get him kicked out of the medical bay. He held the tablet before him like a peace offering, taking another couple of steps forward with his gaze fixed on Hermann's face. “I'm not here to make fun of you or get you all worked up. I'm just visiting a friend. Can't I do that?”

Hermann jerked back into his previous position towards the far curtain as if Newt's very presence was distasteful. Hell, maybe it was. 

“You heard me.” 

“I heard you, but just because I heard you doesn't mean that I'm going to listen. I would've thought that you knew how that worked by now.” Slowly, as if sidling up to a nervous animal, Newt eased himself next to the bed and held out the tablet for Hermann to take. “Here.”

“Leave it on the bed.”

“...No, you take it from me.” Because he could have sworn-

If looks could kill, Newt would have gone up in flames the moment when Hermann turned on him again, face twisted in a disdainful sneer before he groped for the offered tablet. Groped _unsuccessfully_ , as if he knew it was there and couldn't quite get a fix on it. Newt grabbed his wrist. 

“Hermann?” There was no good reason for his voice to sound that small, that uncertain, but it did anyway. And no it was not breaking out of worry or some stupid shit like that. “Hermann, hey. Dude. What's going on?”

“Get out, Newton.” Hermann's voice didn't sound all that much better when he spoke up again, as if all of the fire and vitriol and energy had suddenly and utterly drained from it. “This doesn't concern you.”

But it did, it really did, and that was the part that really sucked. Because Newt wouldn't be here if it didn't 'concern' him, he wouldn't have bothered taking time out of his day to track Hermann down and worry about him and stress out over whatever-it-was, because it was obviously _something_. 

“No,” he ground out, planting his ass on the bed at Hermann's side in spite of the possible consequences of putting himself within range of Hermann's fist. “No, I'm not leaving, because this does concern me. We're friends, aren't we? We're...” His voice trailed off, because there really wasn't a nice way to say fuck-buddies or friends with benefits without sounding totally crude, and now was not the time for crude, not when it meant that Hermann might flip out on him again and he really didn't want that. Not now. Newt gave a disparaging sort of laugh. “Hell, I don't really know what we are any more, but doesn't that count for something? Can't I be here for you and help you through whatever has you laid up?”

A small, pained huff came from the man at his side, but otherwise he didn't respond. Awesome.

All of those stupid feelings he'd been trying to ignore had been bubbling up in his chest like a volcano on the verge of erupting ever since he'd found his missing lab partner laying in this damned bed, and there was just no way he could hold them back any more. It was physically impossible. 

“I'm not here because I pity you, dude, because I don't. I mean, I don't even know what the issue is, but I still won't pity you. You're the harshest son-of-a-bitch I know, and you don't take shit from anybody, including me. Do you know how much I appreciate that? 

“So many folks just write me off or start ignoring me because I'm that annoying, bratty punt who knows too much and has no fucking people skills, but you don't. You've managed to work side-by-side with me for two years now. I don't think you realize how amazing that is.” His fingers tangled in the sheets at Hermann's side. This was stuff he didn't talk about with anyone, never had, probably never would again, because it made Newt feel less like a rock star and more like the lonely little boy he'd always been deep down, and that was someone he didn't want to be. “I've never had anyone stick around that long before. _Never_. No one can take that much Newton Geiszler in direct proximity except for you, and now it's more than that because... well, I could just say it's because of the sex, but it's not just that, is it? Go ahead and try to tell me that it isn't.

“So fuck you, and fuck whatever-it-is you are dealing with right now, because I'm not about to just walk away from it and leave you to deal with it alone because you don't think it's 'my concern'. I'm _here_ , so suck it up and deal.”

Newt's emotional spew came to an abrupt halt and left the space draped in an increasingly awkward silence that neither seemed willing to break. The biologist couldn't draw his gaze away from Hermann's blanket-covered knees, as if looking anywhere else might unleash another torrent of words that he couldn't control, and Hermann laid next to him with a stillness that left Newt on edge. He'd totally fucked this up, hadn't he? He'd end their unspoken agreement to Not Talk About Things because Newt couldn't handle it, because no matter how vague he had tried to be, any idiot with half of a brain cell would have realized that the feelings he'd just blasted all over the bed were more than casual, more than just friends with benefits. _Good job, Geiszler. Way to screw up a good thing yet again._ This _is why we can't have nice things._

But in that moment a hand groped its way across the blanket and found his own, gripping at it like a lifeline, like letting go was just not an option, and there was no way in hell that Newt wanted to let it escape. Hermann's voice, when it came again, was just as quiet as before, though tinged with something that he couldn't quite identify. 

“What is it, then?”

“What's what? This-” He gestured wildly between them with his free hand. “-this thing we have? I don't even know. We never- we never really put a name to it, did we? For a pair of supposedly genius scientists who value things like controlled experiments and predicted outcomes, we sure screwed that up.”

“ _Newton_.”

“Right, right, that's not an answer. You want the truth? The honest to god truth?” Oh hell, here it came, the Thing he'd been trying so hard to ignore in hopes that it would go away or be forgotten if he didn't dwell on it for a while. Fat lot of good that'd done him. The hand in his own gave a little squeeze as if silently encouraging, and that was all it took to send the words tumbling again from his lips. Again. “I think I love you. No, I know I love you. I started crushing on your brain way back when we started writing each other years ago, and I thought that our epically terrible first meeting at that conference in London had burned it right out of me, but then we got assigned here and were forced to work together and I had to look at your stupid face every day and I realized that I really _did_ still have a crush on you and it wasn't going away and—” He ducked his head, suddenly and inexplicably self-conscious. “I feel like I'm still in middle school, man, talking about 'crushes' and shit. But yeah, I don't really know when the whole 'love' thing really came into play, but then we started fucking, and it all went downhill from there.”

Hermann let out a long, shuddering sort of sigh at his side and went limp. Shit. Was that a death rattle? Had he killed him? 

“Hey!” Eyes wide, Newt grabbed his shoulder and started shaking. “Hey hey hey, dude, don't die on me now! Breathe!”

Apparently the mathematician wasn't dead, though, since he yanked his hand away from Newt's and began blindly smacking at any part of him that he could reach. 

“I _am_ breathing, you damned fool, though if you keep that up, I might just stop out of spite. Cease your hysterics this instant!”

Okay, good, not dead. Newt forced his fingers free of their frantic grip on his lab partner and cautiously pulled back, as if worried that he might try to die on him again. When Hermann remained alive and frowning in his general vicinity, though, he decided that things might be okay. Hopefully. 

“Sorry, I just... yeah. So um, thoughts? Is this something all in my head, or do you like, get where I'm coming from? It's your turn to spill.”

“I do not 'spill'.”

“Hey, c'mon, I just emotionally vomited all over you. The least you can do is return the favor, even just the slightest bit.”

The other man clucked this tongue, whether in sympathy or disapproval Newt wasn't immediately sure. Newt grabbed his hand again. 

“This is a- a complex situation. It is not simply a matter of my feelings, but...” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his chin towards the bed he lay on and infirmary around them, the sad little attempt at curtained privacy doing little to block out the sounds of the medical bay. 

Newt blinked, “What does the med team have to do with your feelings? Are you afraid they'll judge? Dude, this is 2022, only small-minded bigots are still wrapped up in heteronormality these days. At least in the 'Dome.”

“That's not it.”

“Then what is it, man? You want more privacy before you gush all of your mushy romantic feelings for me out in the open?” His words rang with a confidence that he himself didn't really feel. 

“ _No_.”

“Then tell me what the problem is.”

Hermann's hand tried to escape, but he kept it from going anywhere. 

“The fact is, expressing feelings such as the ones you are requesting usually come with expectations, and these are expectations that I do not think I can live up to.” He sighed again, closing his eyes and slumping back against the flimsy infirmary pillow. “Did you think I was here merely for the sights?”

“I dunno, man, there are a few nurses here who are kind of hot.” The lame attempt at a joke earned him a half-hearted glare. “Kidding, kidding. So you've got a few health problems. Who doesn't? We're human, Herm, and humans are flawed creatures with a propensity to various mutations and infections on top of whatever environmental damage we take, intentional or not. I'm not going to hold that against you.”

“This isn't as simple as that, Doctor Geiszler,” Hermann growled, tensing up again. “It's not the flu, or an old injury, or anything of the sort. It's a degenerative disease that is slowly but surely going to reduce the quality of my life and make certain relationships nearly impossible to maintain, because no romantic partner should be expected to transition from lover to caretaker. Do you understand? I have no business expecting anything more than the occasional shag when I'm well enough to manage it. I do apologize if this disappoints you, but believe me, you will thank me for it someday when you find someone who can keep up with you on both a mental _and_ physical level.”

Letting out an incredulous little huff of laughter, Newt shook his head and pulled Hermann's hand into his lap, tracing invisible patterns over those clenched fingers as much to comfort the other as to ground himself. 

“For such an unabashed genius, you are a fucking idiot, Hermann Gottlieb.”

“What.”

“I've got six doctorates, man, with a research focus in multiple subcategories of biology, human physiology, and artificial tissue replication. I've worked side by side with you for years now. Did you honestly think I didn't pick up on a few things?” He held up Hermann's hand and began ticking off on his fingers. “Muscle weakness and pain, issues with your balance and coordination, mood instability that's probably from some neurotransmitter imbalance or as a side effect of pain or some bottled up emotional bullshit, and now some sort of vision loss and autoimmune therapy. I'm sure I could add to the list if I really thought about it hard, but hey, news flash, I don't make a habit of diagnosing my _friends_ with shit. I figure that they'll tell me if they want to, and if they don't, it's not my business. Have I ever pushed you about the cane, or snooped around in those pills you keep in your desk? I don't think so.”

He hadn't. Because he might be an asshole, but he's not that much of an asshole. 

“And furthermore? I've had my suspicions about whatever-it-is since we started working together here in Tokyo, and I _still_ wanted to bang you. Because I'm not shallow enough to equate you with your health issues. I'm not asking you to marry me or think about anything long term; we don't know what sort of shit the Breach is going to chuck at us tomorrow, or next week, or next month. I don't even know how you feel about me right now, and it's freaking me out a little. I'm just asking for you to let us have a chance to see where things go. If that's too much for you, then fine, just tell me and I'll back off and pretend like we never had this conversation, just as long as you can pretend that you never heard me say the 'L' word and we can go back to how things were before. Give me that much, at least.”

The hand in his lap flexed, relaxed, and slowly turned over to allow Newt's gentle touches to glide over the palm, something he was all too willing to do as the moments slipped by in a silence where the awkwardness seemed to be fading. 

“I think I could admit to similar feelings,” Hermann admitted in a whisper that Newt had to strain to hear. 

“Yeah?”

The other man nodded. 

“For... a while now.”

Aww yeah. Newt's grin nearly split his face in half.

Hermann's hand curled around his stroking fingers. 

“It's... multiple sclerosis, if you must know. Usually it's under some semblance of control, but occasionally things flare up, and I end up in the hospital when it does.” He took a deep, shaky breath before letting it out slowly, as if releasing himself of some terrible burden while Newt clamped his mouth shut so that the other could continue if he wished. And he did. “I was diagnosed back in 2017. Not long before we met, actually.”

“Shit, Herm. No wonder you were a big ball of rainbows and sunshine. Did that have anything to do why you were a total ice king and nearly bit my head off? Repeatedly?”

There was that faint nod again, and if Newt's heart wasn't already fit to burst with sappy, fluffy, ridiculous things, it might have broken to realize that the past few years could have been so much better if Hermann hadn't been so scared of like, everything. But the past was the past, and all they could do was move forward.

“Alright. Alright, that sucks, but let's not think about that. We're better now, right?” He shifted around on the bed, frowning when he realized that Hermann still wasn't quite looking at him. “Hey, can you see me at all?”

The mathematician's jaw tightened at the reminder of his disability but otherwise let it slide, an allowance which spoke volumes of just how far things had shifted in the past few minutes. 

“Not from my left side, no. My right is blurred, but I can still make out shapes.”

“Okay. Hold on.” Giving the other's hand one more squeeze, Newt stood and made his way around to the other side of the bed, gingerly settling himself down beside Hermann amongst the tubes and monitors and leaning up to tentatively peck the corner of his mouth. “Is this better?”

Sure, Hermann's face lit up into a spectacular sort of red at the intimacy, and he might've given Newt a little shove and muttered at him to “stop that”, but the absolute undeniable _relief_ painted across his features as Newt wrapped an arm around his waist spoke where words did not.

Oh yeah. Much better.


	3. Followed By A Change In Legal Status

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there's one thing that the apocalypse puts into perspective, it's the fact that Death could spring on you at any moment. Waiting for better days to take the next big step no longer looks so appealing when you realize that you may not live to see it.

_October 4, 2024_

Everyone was crowded into LOCCENT, watching the data feed scroll by on Tendo's holographic displays and the live video feed on the wall monitors as Mammoth Apostle and Striker Eureka made the drop just off of Malaysia to confront the latest threat. Okay, so 'everyone' was probably a bit of an exaggeration, since LOCCENT really wasn't all that big, but the ones who counted were there. Pentecost, the lead J-Techs, a few 'essential personnel' whose names Newt could never remember, and then the K-Science department.

Okay, so K-Science technically meant only him and Hermann these days. Minor detail.

Sidney had the reins for this operation, so Hong Kong got to kick back and watch for the most part, though Tendo's systems continued to collect data like a boss for later analysis. They could technically just get their hands on a copy of it once it was all said and done instead of sitting here with the others, sure, but a) Newt liked seeing this shit firsthand if he could, and b) they knew the pilots in Mammoth Apostle. Sort of.

Li Na and Zhang Tao had been stationed here after they'd finished up their Jaeger Academy training, stuck waiting until a Jaeger freed up for them. This shouldn't have been a problem, but with the recent losses the program had taken, they weren't exactly swimming in free Jaegers to hand around. When a team in Los Angeles had been grounded due to some heavy damage and subsequent radiation poisoning, they'd jumped at the chance to take their place once repairs were made. The brother and sister team had been so excited for the opportunity to serve, to get out there and make a difference in this war, and they'd finally gotten their first chance to sock it to a kaiju. 

Mammoth Apostle strode through the waves of the South China Sea like she'd done it hundreds of times before, waves crashing over hundreds of tons of gleaming metal that didn't seem to slow her down a bit, slightly smaller than the other Jaeger nearly a mile at her side but still a sight to behold. “Wow,” Newt muttered, leaning against Hermann's shoulder as he peered closer at the nearest screen. “Why are we not doing that? That is so _badass_.” 

“What, piloting a Jaeger?”

“ _Yeah,_ ” came Newt's breathy little sigh, and if asked he would implicitly state that it sounded nothing like a schoolgirl gazing on her first crush. Obviously.

“Because neither you nor I are suited for such things,” Hermann replied, shrugging his shoulder in an attempt to dislodge the other man. It didn't work. 

_Because MS and bipolar,_ Newt's mind supplied helpfully. _Nobody wants to drift with_ that _or find out what happens to somebody with those conditions when they do, duh._

But he knew that, and he knew that Hermann knew that, and letting it get them down was really all sorts of stupid. Besides, he'd much rather be elbow-deep in kaiju guts than sweating with the jocks any day. “Yeah, yeah, whatevs. That just means more awesome in the science department for them. What would they do without us?”

“Maybe not be woken up at two AM by a colorful array of German expletives and other miscellaneous death threats?” Tendo called back over his shoulder, slipping into humor to ease some of the tension in the room. The nosy eavesdropping bastard.

“Hey, we're not _that_ bad.”

The J-Tech chief snorted, whirling around on his swivel chair to fix them both with a knowing grin. “Okay, maybe not so many of the death threats these days. I think it's more along the lines of 'Newt and Hermann Make A Porno', just with less cheesy music and more-”

“ _Mister Choi_ ,” Marshall Pentecost growled, still staring straight ahead at the main display as if he'd not become an unwilling party to talk of his K-Science department's sex life. “I would appreciate if you would give me a status update on the kaiju's current position rather than speculate on the Doctors' personal activities.”

Newt nearly doubled over laughing as Tendo whirled back around, fingers flying over dials and holographic controls with a choked, ' _yes sir_ '. 

Hermann being Hermann probably didn't find any of it all that funny, the tips of his ears burning and a half-hearted jab landing in Newt's middle. 

“You are incorrigible,” he whispered, jabbing him a second time with his elbow when the first didn't seem to have the desired effect of stifling Newt's giggles. “Is it too much to ask for you to maintain an iota of professionalism while we're working?”

“Obviously,” Newt replied, ducking down when the Marshall flashed him another thin-lipped glare. “Hey are we really that loud?”

“ _I_ am not. _You_ , on the other hand, are an entirely different story.”

But before Newt could try to dispute _that_ particular claim, an alarm began to wail through LOCCENT and what little lightheartedness may have remained in the room got sucked out in one heaving gasp. “We have visual!” Tendo called out, flipping between sensors and dialing up a grainy feed on the main screen. 

“Holy shit,” one of the techs said.

“It's a big one,” a tinny voice from Sidney sounded over the speakers. “Closing in from your right, Apostle!” 

The next few minutes passed as a blur as the crested kaiju rose from the ocean like a beast from the depths of hell, glowing blue eyes flashing with malice as it lowered its head and charged like an angry bull on steroids. It's enough to stagger Mammoth Apostle but not topple her, in spite of the way machinery crumpled and sparked under the crushing blow that threatened the integrity of the Conn-Pod itself. The Jaeger's fists slammed into both sides of the monster's head and forced it back with an enraged bellow, its mouth gaping and an armored frill spreading threateningly around its face, shot through with biofluorescent patterns. 

“Beautiful,” Newt whispered to himself, because it _was_.

They grappled together, the kaiju's edged crest slamming over and over again into the front of the Jaeger, purposefully striking the housing that contained the pilots. Before Striker Eureka could close the distance between them and tear it away, the kaiju sank a clawed arm into either side of the Jaeger's torso and used its second set to wrench violently at its arms. It wasn't enough to pull them completely free, but even on the poor video being transmitted from Striker Eureka's sensors they could see the way the arms fell uselessly to the Jaeger's sides when the beast pulled back, hydraulic fluid pumping uselessly from severed lines like black blood dripping from mechanical wounds. 

“All control to the arms has been lost!” Li Na's voice crackled over the audio system, her brother's voice spewing curses in the background. “Weapons systems are offline or useless. I can't bring the Plasmacaster up!”

“Get out of there, Apostle!” The voice of Sydney's Marshall responded, firm but edged in concern. “Do not engage in any further conflict. Eureka, move in and cover their retreat. We can't afford to lose another Jaeger.”

But the beast could not be so easily called off. With another menacing roar it released its prey and whirled on its back legs to slam a powerful tail into the crippled Jaeger's torso.

She staggered again.

And like a slow-motion scene out of a movie, she toppled.

The feed from inside Mammoth Apostle's Conn-Pod flickered on the side monitors, revealing the struggling siblings still caught in their motion-capture rig; audio fizzled in and out, sharing horrifying snatches of their cries as water began to pour in around them. Without the arms to heave itself back up onto its feet, the Jaeger was little more than a sinking hunk of metal. And the damage it had already taken meant that the Conn-Pod was leaking like a sieve. 

Everyone standing in Hong Kong's LOCCENT had gone completely silent.

_They can't get out._

“The escape-pod release isn't responding,” Tendo finally spoke up, eyes fixed on the data scrolling down his screen and fingers still flying as if he could somehow stave off the inevitable. “Sydney can't force a remote override. Neither can I.”

The systems around the downed Jaeger pilots began to go dark under the churning water that crept higher and higher, until even the audio feed went down, until all they could see were the bodies of their friends thrashing and fighting against machinery and water, until even the visual feed began to flicker, until-

The monitor went dark.

All eyes turned to stare at Marshall Pentecost, who stood silently with a remote in his outstretched hand, still pointed at the darkened screen. “That's enough.”

A shaky, collective sigh that no one realized they'd been holding filled the room, shock and horror painted across the gathered faces. Hermann stood frozen at his side, an immovable tower, knuckles white on his cane and face still pointed towards the screen that was no longer transmitting, and even though Newt wanted to touch him, he didn't. He couldn't. Not right now.

“Mister Choi, status update?”

The J-Tech chief snapped back to attention, scanning the data coming over his own screens for a few moments before responding, “It looks like Eureka has engaged the kaiju and- and it's fired a salvo of ramjet missiles, sir. Sensors indicate that the kaiju is down. Just waiting for Striker Eureka to verify.” Something beeped on Tendo's console. “Verification received. My scans indicate fading life signs. I... think they've done it, sir.” The Marshall nodded. 

“Everyone back to your posts,” Pentecost ordered, his voice deceptively calm as he looked around the room. His eyes, when they finally met Newt's, seemed filled with a quiet grief yet also with the steely determination that never seemed to falter, never seemed fake, and that meant more to him than any amount of posturing or words of sympathy. “I expect data to be compiled and distributed to the appropriate parties by 1200 hours, and reports on my desk by tomorrow at the same time. I know that many of you knew the pilots, but the fate of the world lies on our shoulders, ladies and gentlemen. Pour your energy and your grief into your work, and when we've finally won this thing, we'll give them a proper send-off.”

As much as Newt bristled against authority and everyone who represented it, it was next to impossible to hate Stacker Pentecost. The man had _class_.

“Mister Choi, reset the clock.”

* * *

So they went back to their posts as ordered, which for Newt and Hermann meant the lab. This was war, that was death, it happened, but it didn't make it any easier to take.

The rest of the day crept by with agonizing slowness, the two scientists unnaturally quiet as they went about their work. Hermann sat at his desk and tried to make sense of the latest data that had been compiled for him while Newt watched grainy footage over and over again in hopes of discovering something new in terms of the kaiju's movements or behavior, but eventually he'd given up and returned to his specimens. He just couldn't keep focused when it meant watching Mammoth Apostle get taken down over and over again.

The dissection wasn't going over too well, either. His mind was going a mile a minute, and not in a single useful direction.

“You know,” Newt began, staring down at gloved hands stained blue with diluted kaiju blood and the same cold lump of flesh that he’d been prodding ineffectually for the past hour, “that could have been us. Not like, actually in the Jaeger, because like you said there's no way anyone with an ounce of sense would toss us in there, but it could have been Hong Kong that got hit. That kaiju could’ve come up here and jumped all over the ‘Dome, and we could have been crushed under the rubble or dissolved in some sort of wicked acid or tossed out in the ocean to drown or _eaten_ -“

“Newton.” Hermann’s voice was sharp, though the normal edge of anger that sometimes rose seemed dulled by grief. “Stop dwelling on what might have been. It does no one any bloody good.”

“But you know it could have totally happened.” Kaiju innards squished between his fingers as they involuntarily curled and clenched, anxiety and maybe even a little fear leaving him jittery and tense. Every time the Breach reopened and spat out another monster, every time a new city got attacked, every Jaeger that got sent to the bottom of the Pacific… every time it hit a little harder, no matter how much bravado Newt might try to put on. Other folks might look at him and see a loud-mouthed, overconfident scientist who didn't give two shits about anyone else and who /knew/ that they were going to win no matter what, but once he and Hermann got back to the lab and were again faced with little more than the harsh, honest truth of hard-won numbers and data, he couldn’t help but feel like they were slowly sinking under the impossibility of it all. “We’re sort of totally in the line of fire out here. One day it’s Li Na and Zhang Tao, and the next it’s a deployment team, or a supply ship, or they come after Hong Kong, or some freak attack or accident hits the ‘Dome and then one or both of us is just… gone. Nothing left but bits of meat.”

A heavy sigh, the scrape of chair legs sliding over the floor, the tap of a pen being set pointedly down atop a desk and the rhythmic thud of a cane. Newt nearly jumped as a hand came to rest against the small of his back, an unusual public display of affection that left the biologist twisting around with a brittle ghost of his normal smirk. “God, if you’re doing this, maybe I’m already dead and just don’t know it yet.”

“Hush,” came Hermann’s soft admonishment. “You are certainly not dead. Neither of us are.”

He swallowed, leaning back ever so slightly into the touch, his shoulder resting against his taller partner’s chest. Somehow the touch leached away a little of the ache that had been building ever since they watched metal rend and sparks fly on a small screen up in LOCCENT, a hope for victory smashed to pieces and instead forcing them to become unwilling voyeurs into death only a few scant hours before. 

“But what if we did die, man? Or just one of us died? I know you’re totally going to call me a sap or some make fun of me or some shit, but...” He trailed off, flicking uncertainly at a tentacle.

That didn’t get him any sort of an answer, but he hadn’t expected one. Somehow their relationship had slipped from reluctant lab partners, to fuck buddies, to this sort of serious thing that they'd had now for a while that was totally boyfriends but that Hermann wouldn't let him call boyfriends and preferred more mature terms like 'partner' and 'significant other'. And that was fine. Newt couldn’t really imagine a future without Hermann right there at his side, not really, and he liked to think that Hermann felt the same. It just wasn’t one of those things they really _talked_ about, that whole _future_ thing. The end of the world sort of kept them distracted from stuff like that.

But then more kaiju exploded out of the depths and chipped away a little further at their defenses, left them sliding even farther down into a deepening pool of pessimism and dwindling hope, and forced him to realize that they couldn't keep putting it off.

Not anymore. 

It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean his head back against Hermann’s shoulder and peer up at him, his glasses slipping down his nose and tired eyes searching his partner’s face. “Herm?”

“ _Newton._ You know I don't care for that.”

“No, wait, just hear me out.” To his credit Hermann didn’t move, didn’t do anything more than huff and stare down at him with a disgruntled frown at the use of a nickname that he didn't approve of but still let Newt get away with using sometimes. “Look, we’ve been together like, forever-“

“Two years and seventeen days, to be exact.”

“…Aww, you actually kept track? So romantic, Hermy-baby.”

“For god’s sake, shut up.”

“No, no, I’m going somewhere with this. Yeah. Just hear me out. Uh, so, we’ve been together a while, and we don’t know when or… or if something might happen, and…” This was a whole lot harder than it had seemed in his head. “Maybe we should step it up a little, you know? Take the next big plunge. I mean, ideally we’d wait until all of this whole apocalypse bullshit is over with, but what if it doesn’t end? What if we can only wait out whatever time we have left? It's really depressing and defeatist and shit, but I don’t want to keep pushing things off just because we’re waiting for happier days and then end up missing out completely.”

He paused. Hermann remained completely still at his back, not saying anything, maybe not even breathing, and it sort of freaked him out a little. He really need to stop doing the whole not-really-breathing-during-serious-thoughts thing. 

“Hermann? Talk to me, man.”

“Am I to understand,” the mathematician finally said after a few more moments had passed, “that this is your bizarre way of asking me to marry you?”

“Um. Sort of? Yes? I know that the timing really sucks, but... I just don't want to lose the chance. I'd never forgive myself if something happened and I did. And I'm not just doing it for silly romantic reasons either, you know that; for all of those practical reasons too, so that- so that if something does happen, then we're both protected. So your dad can't just swoop in and make decisions that neither of us would agree with, 'cause he would totally do that just to spite us, and so that you'd be entitled to my pensions and wouldn't have to pay inheritance taxes on my totally awesome vinyl collection.”

Newt would never forget the way Hermann glanced down to fix him with the sort of gaze that seemed to stare right through him, past the ink and the brash confidence and right to the fear which had wrapped cold tendrils around his heart, and instead of brushing him off or chiding him for whatever reason he could have come up with at with the moment, simply nodded. 

"I suppose," is all he said, as if Newt had merely asked him if he wanted to join him for dinner instead of _spending the rest of their lives together_.

But you know what? That was totally okay.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Right now?”

“No, not right now.” Newt might have deflated then and there had Hermann not continued without missing a beat. “After you go back to the room to shower and change into some clean clothing, and I contact the Marshall to see if he would be willing conduct a civil ceremony for us. I know that he'll be busy coordinating the clean-up with Los Angeles and Sidney, but I expect that he'd be understanding enough to spare us a few moments.”

_And then we can get right back to work after we're done_. Hermann didn't say it, but they both knew that that's what would probably happen. 

* * *

They ended up in the Marshall's office at about 2300 hours as though they were there for little more than a routine meeting, dressed in their everyday clothing (though Newt's was clean for once) and looking just as haggard as they did any other day. Each had grabbed a spare body on their way in to act as a witness, leaving Mako and Tendo to be the lucky pair who stood in the background as Pentecost briskly took them through the formalities and presented them with the necessary paperwork to fill out. 

It wasn't romantic in any sense of the word. They might as well have been signing off on some new PPDC policy for all of the excitement it entailed. Hell, they didn't even have a pair of rings to exchange or any fancy, tear-inspiring vows.

But it was fine. Really. 

“Gentlemen,” Pentecost had said as he stretched out a hand to shake both of theirs after it was all said and done, “I believe that congratulations are in order. I only wish that times weren't so dire that you could actually take some time off to celebrate, but as it stands-”

“No need to say anything, sir,” Hermann cut in. “We agreed to this knowing that the world we live in may end at any moment. Such frivolities can wait for the day when that is no longer a threat.”

Nodding, Newt gave his husband ( _!_ ) a crooked little smile. “Yeah, what he said.”

* * *

They ended up in Hermann's quarters that night after the ceremony and a few more hours of work, since his disability meant that he got a bigger bed and a little more space to move around in than Newt did. Maybe someday they'd petition for a double room, but for now, this would do.

“So... no reception, no fancy clothes, not even a bottle of champagne to celebrate. This has got to be the lamest wedding that the world has ever seen.” The biologist drew his tie over his head and tossed it to the bed, where Hermann picked it up out of long-standing habit and began to work the tight knot out of the material as Newt began shedding the rest of his clothes. 

“All things considered, I think we managed very well,” he murmured, eventually untangling the tie and draping it over a drawer handle for the next day. “We cannot possibly expect nor afford any sort of a lavish get-together in the middle of a war.”

“I didn't even get to carry you over the threshold.”

“I'd rather that you didn't carry me _anywhere_. It's bound to end horribly.”

“Yeah, but.” Clad in nothing more than his boxes, Newt caught Hermann's hand and pulled him close. “Still. Tradition.”

“Tradition isn't always what it's cracked up to be, you know,” Hermann murmured as his husband began to work on divulging him of his bulky sweater. “Tradition also dictates spending a lot of money we don't have to invite family we don't like to a party that we don't want or have time for.”

“Hey, I totally want a party,” Newt whined, though the other stuff was totally true. “We'll have to throw a party someday. Hey, your dad isn't going to kill me for eloping with you, is he?”

The mathematician sniffed dismissively, which wasn't nearly as effective with his hair sticking up in all directions from sweater static. “It's a little late to be worrying about such things, isn't it? Besides, my father hasn't been concerned with my personal life in years, so I doubt that he'd start now. My mother, however, may demand that we have a proper ceremony once the world is no longer in jeopardy so that she can fuss over us.”

The biologist laughed, leaning in for a kiss before working Hermann's undershirt out from his pants. 

“Yeah, mine too. And my dad, though he'll be a lot more quiet about it than mom is. My sparkling personality is totally her fault. She'll probably want to help us put everything together and organize the party and everything.”

“Heaven help us all.” 

They were too tired for anything more than crawling up in bed together, Newt's head pillowed on Hermann's chest and their feet tangled in the dark of the windowless room. Stress and fatigue and Hermann's MS made their sex life a lot quieter than any other relationships Newt had ever been in, but he'd discovered long ago that he didn't mind. The other things more than made up for it.

Tomorrow they'd go back to the lab, go back to bickering and driving one another crazy, leaving those in the know wondering how their marriage would survive and those who weren't wondering how they hadn't already killed one another, but it was okay.

Even with kaiju threatening to end the world around them, it would be okay. Somehow.


End file.
